


Speakeasy

by Elder_Higgins



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Albert DaSilva/ Racetrack Higgins (One Sided), Albert loves Race, Alcohol, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blush - Freeform, Canon Universe, Crutchie died, Everyone Is Gay, Gay Newsies, Hints of Jack Kelly/Spot Conlon, Hurt/Comfort, I Tried, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, It's set in 1905 so there were no speakeasy's, Italian Racetrack Higgins, Love Confession, M/M, Mom Friend David Jacobs, Multi, Mutual Pining, My First AO3 Post, New York accents, Period-Typical Homophobia, Race is a fuckboy, Smoking, Soft Spot Conlon, Songfic, Speakeasy by Alex Ernst, They're old now, he deserves better, javid - Freeform, sprace, the song just really reminded me of Race
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 12:38:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17581007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elder_Higgins/pseuds/Elder_Higgins
Summary: It's been six years since the strike. The Newsies have grown up and gotten jobs in factories, but still get together at Jacobi's every Sunday night for drinks and poker.Inspired by the song Speakeasy by Alex Ernst





	Speakeasy

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first ever fic to be post on Ao3 so everything may be all over the place. (Please let me know if there is anything I can fix in the tags or summary!)
> 
> Here's the song it was inspired by if you want to listen while you read! https://youtu.be/H4EtT8rRCnk  
> It reminds me so much of Race! Anyway, enjoy reading!
> 
> Kudos and comments are highly appreciated :)

_I‘ve got liquor in my system, cigars on my breath_  
_I‘ve got liquor in my system, cigars on my breath_

Smoke floated around the bar, drifting in between conversations and laughter. In the back corner, far away from the rest of the world, sat a close group of friends. Passing by them on the street, one would not know who they were. All they would see is a group of overworked men with callouses spread across their hands, but once- some six years ago- they were on the front page of the paper, the very paper they sold, but “Theys weren’t Newsies no more” as Elmer had affectionally put it. 

They had all grown up, still thick as thieves even though they had all went their separate ways. Every Sunday evening- Elmer still had yet to step foot in a church- the group met up in the back room of Jacobi’s for drinks. Racetrack Higgins found the courage to actually light his cigar once he moved to a factory job assembling cars, and was responsible for most, if not all, the smoke that drifted around the lounge.

_I‘ve got liquor in my system, cigars on my breath_  
_I‘ve got liquor in my system, cigars on my breath_

Race took another swig out of his pint. He had no clue what he was ingesting, and honestly could not be bothered. Everything ached, from the balls of his feet to the bags beneath his eyes. The factory job, sure it payed alright but they had found loopholes in every regulation placed upon the company. Some days Race wished he was 15 again, selling papes at Sheepshead in hopes of seeing Spot. 

Another round of laughter went up around the table. Race joined in, not really paying attention as he took a long drag from his cigar. His tired eyes flicked to the door, Spot had missed the past two weeks, saying he had “serious business to attend to.” No one argued, he was still the King of Brooklyn not matter his age. 

“Aye Racer, I haven’t heard that smartass mouth of yours all night,” Albert called, throwing down his cards in triumph as Specs lost yet another game of poker, “Don’t tell me you really expect him to come?” There was ice behind those words. 

Race rolled his eyes, staring down at the hand he had just played. “Che cazzo è? Yous is really tryin’ ta mouth off when yous won yerself a game with one pair?” He smirked. “I know yous don’t want me to be dealt in, porca vacca!”

_I was a passing-by, I do not know the time_  
_I’m feeling alright, I’m loving sweet old life_

Jack Kelley let out a barking laugh at his comment, clapping Racetrack on the shoulder. “He’s got ya there Albert!” Race couldn’t help but smile around his cigar. There wasn’t a time in his life Race could remember that Jack wasn’t in. When his family had landed in America when Race was only six, Jack was the first person he talked to. Jack was the one who taught him English, how to read, and most importantly, how to be part of a family. 

Albert scowled, turning his attention to wish Les a good week. Davey, ever the mother, had ordered the 18-year-old to go home. Race didn’t know the time, but he assumed it had to be late, especially if Les was leaving. “Sogni d'oro! I will miss you dearly.” Race cooed, hugging the child. Across the table Davey met his tired eyes and smiled. 

In that moment there was nowhere else Race would rather be, even in his exhausted, overworked stupor. He was surrounded by the people he loved most, minus Spot of course, in the city he grew up. One more drag from his cigar before putting it out and slinging an arm around Specs, “We’s the Kings of New York!” Around him everyone let out a cry, lifting their glasses. 

_Through the corner of my eyes, I’m watching you arrive_  
_Oh, darling take my hand let‘s go chase the night_

“Sorry I’s was late-” The voice came from the door way, cut off by Race’s thick Italian, “Chiudere il becco! We’s just glad yous showed up for once.” 

Spot glanced over, the corners of his eyes crinkling as a laugh flies off his lips. He staunters over to Race, leaning against the back of his chair to brush his lips against the top of his ear, “If I’s had known yer smart ass was gonna be here I’s woulda stayed home.” A dark pink blush spread its way across his cheeks. It had been so long since he had last had Spot this close to him and he couldn’t help but shiver at the heat of his breath on his ear. 

“Oi and ‘ere I thought yer missin’ my jokes afta not seein’ me for, what, two weeks?” Race stretched, leaning back to look at Spot. His face enough was close enough that Race could count the freckles sprinkled across his nose, which he had, there was approximately 216. That number was a rough estimate, however, seeing that Race was constantly being distracted by his lips. Blinking, he returned himself back to his thoughts and grinned up at his friend. Ignoring Albert’s glare Race extended his hand, “Have a seat, stay a while.” 

_I think that we, we’re meant to be_  
_Caught up in the moment, got no sense of time_

After a moment of hesitation Spot grabbed his hand and sat down in the open seat next to Race. He did not let go of his hand. Once more Race blushed, part of him wished Crutchie was there to smirk at him across the table. Davey had taken over as Jack’s second in command back when the strike was still in play and Race found himself spending more time with the crip, even going as far to help the poor kid out of panic attacks once he had been released from The Refuge. Mush and Blink had always been Race’s best friend, then Spot entered his life – who still gripped Race’s hand, rubbing his thumb over the other boy’s knuckles – but the damn crip was the one who truly became Race’s family and when he passed away at 19. . . 

“Yous ok Racer?” Spot leaned over, closer than necessary, but that had never bothered Race. Immediately he snapped out of his thoughts to nod, “Mhmm, just thinkin’ ‘bout Crutchie.” At that the table went silent. No one brought him up anymore, they loved him and always would, but these gatherings were about forgetting all the bad things that happened. Spot watched with concerned eyes, bringing their entwined hands to his lips so he could place a kiss on the back of Race’s hand. “I’m sorry. Yous twos was close, of course ya gonna miss him when wes all get together,” another kiss pressed to his knuckles, Race’s breath caught in his throat. “Just know he’s always lookin’ down at ya and wishin’ ya the best.”

Tears pricked at Race’s eyes. On the other side of him, Jack cleared his throat. There were tears in his eyes as well. “He is Racer,” Jack somehow managed to keep his voice steady, “Crutchie is always lookin’ down at us. He’s always here.” Davey placed his hand on Jack’s shoulder and squeezed. Race knew that if it was just them three in a room, it would have been a hug and a soft kiss to his temple, but there were the rest of the Newsie’s here. Even though they didn’t sell papes anymore, Jack Kelley was still the leader. In this day and age, leaders did not stay leaders by being queer. 

Spot got away with small shows of affection because everyone was too afraid to go up against the King of Brooklyn. However, this was in the safety of his friend group. Out on the streets of New York simply holding Race’s hand would result in a black eye and that’s if they ran into the more understanding individuals.

After a few uncomfortable moments of silence Kid Blink and Mush pushed away from the table, announcing their departure. No one knew what time it was, but they knew it wasn’t late enough for anyone to leave. “Don’t worry, we’s comin’ next week like always.” They assured, waving and leaving. Race watched Mush’s fingers run along the inside of Blink’s wrist. If only times could change.

_Let‘s get away, just for today_  
_Caught up in the moment, let us drink tonight_

More pints were passed about. Elmer, ever the voice of reason, bet Albert he could down four of them in three minutes and he did. Money was passed. The group continued to laugh and shout, harping on Albert. It was not his night, for his eyes kept flicking to Race. More specifically his lips. The ones wrapped tightly around a new Corona, taking a deep drag, smoke pouring out along with a laugh at some smart comment Spot had made. They shouldn’t have been wrapped around that cigar, they would look much nicer on Albert’s- 

“Don’t yous think yous could go outside with that?” Race’s head snapped over to look at Albert, who was looking pointedly at the cigar. His eyes were laced with envy, face flushing as Race tilted his head to stare back at DaSilva with a calculating gaze. 

“What? Yous neva had no problem with my smokin’ inside before,” Race shot back with an indignant hiss. Spot squeezed his hand gently, tugging Race out of his anger. The touch grounded him. “Hey yous,” Spot leaned over to whisper in his ear. “Let’s just get outta his hair? I’s been wantin’ to get yous ta myself all night.” 

Heat spread across Race’s cheeks, blue eyes tearing themselves away from Albert to glance at Spot. Without realizing it, he was nodding and standing up, following the shorter male out of the room. “I’s gonna go finish smokin’ dis outside. Gotta get some fresh air!” Race called out. Specs whined, saying something along the lines of Race not coming back tonight which earned a laugh from Spot, “We’s be right back.” Out they walked, Albert’s eyes were on Race’s back the entire time.

_I‘ve got liquor in my system, cigars on my breath_  
_I‘ve got liquor in my system, cigars on my breath_

Davey watched with concern as Albert turned back to the table without another word. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but Jack placed his hand on Davey’s with a small shake of his head. It was best not to call him out in front of everyone. 

Elmer was nursing a final pint, bringing his total to a record high of seven. “Elmer, put that down. You’s is gonna be a wreck tomorrow as is.” Davey sighed, deciding to focus his energy somewhere. His protective nature had kicked into high gear at the mention of Crutchie. Watching everyone fall apart inside had been a kick to his gut, they were supposed to be enjoying the night.

“Ah shuddup, Mouth. Just because I’s don’t gotta mom doesn’t mean you’s gotta take her place.” Elmer slurred, earning a laugh from Romeo. Davey rolled his eyes but joined in on the laughter. The anxiety in his chest eased, this was more like it. 

“Have another drink, Mouth. Ya need one.” Elmer slid a half-filled pint over to Davey, sloshing it all over the table in the process. It’s the thought that counts, Davey reminded himself. He took a small sip, gagging at the taste. The flinch went unnoticed to everyone expect Jack, who pressed his face into Davey’s shoulder and shook with laughter. The other began laughing as well, unable to control himself. The rest of the group watched with a smile as the two seemingly slipped into madness. Silently, they prayed for moments like these to happen all the time.

_I‘ve got liquor in my system, cigars on my breath_  
_I‘ve got liquor in my system, cigars on my breath_

As they made their way through the crowded bar, Race was hyper focused on the hand at the small of his back. Spot was making a risky move, touching him this way in front of men of a higher class. They were becoming careless in hiding their affairs. Part of him wanted to let Spot slam him against the wall in front of all these people and leave love bites along his neck. He took a long drag of his cigar.

“You’s really gotta stop smokin’ those things.” Spot mumbled to Race as they made their way outside. “Every time I’m near ya all I’s smell is smoke.” The taller of the two let out a loud laugh, the sound made Spot’s chest tighten. “Yet you’s always hangin’ off my side,” Race responded with a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. 

Spot rolled his eyes and held open the side door for Race, “One of these day’s yer head is gonna get so big, you’s won’t be able to walk through the door.” 

_Let’s go out into the night, we’ll watch the stars align_  
_You‘ve got this innocence that I really like_

The alleyway was deserted, spare the two rats fitting for a hunk of garbage a little way down. Race leaned against the wall, eyes trained upwards at the stars. “Yous eva think that we’s could be togettha?” He asked, voice shaking slightly. Silently he cursed himself for even asking. They didn’t have that type of relationship. They were solely physical, a forbidden affair every other month. No strings attached.

Spot arched a brow. “Yous comin’ onta me, Tonio?” The male teased, nudging the aforementioned boy with his shoulder. Race’s head was spinning, he should have stopped after three pints. “C’mon Conlon, I’s is being serious.” Footsteps could be heard on the main street. Even though they weren’t kids anymore, the two still tensed at the thought of a bull finding and soaking them. They moved away from one another until the footsteps had passed. Just a man and a woman, hand in hand as they made their way down the streets of New York. Something in Race’s chest began to burn. 

“We’s is gonna be togettha,” Spot looked over at his lover, “Maybe not like they’s is, but one day we’s is gonna have a place to ourselves. Just like Mush and Blink.” Race didn’t answer, just took another long drag from his Corona. His blue eyes cast upwards, smoke blocked the stars. He let his own drift lazily from his lips. Minutes passed.

“I’s thinks I’s in love with ya.” It might have been the alcohol talking, but Race had to say it. For weeks those words had been pressing on his chest. He was suffocating under the weight of them. “I’s know we ain’t supposed to. . . but I’s really do.” Not bearing to look at Spot’s face, Race opted instead for putting his cigar out on the wall. “Race.” The way the ash crumbled as he dragged the Corona along the brick remained his only focus. 

“Antonio Higgins.” Race’s head turned to look at Spot, eyes full of tears staring into one’s not of disgust as he had originally anticipated, but admiration. He never called him by his full name. Spot’s hand reached up to cradle the others cheek, making sure he was looking at him. “I’s don’t care what we’s supposed to or not supposed to feel. I’s knows I love you.”

_Don’t know about your past, but I don’t really mind_  
_Maybe we‘ll flip a coin and go to yours and mine_

Tears flowed freely down Race’s cheeks now. Spot didn’t mind and swiped his thumb over the other boy’s cheek to brush them away. Once more Race found himself silently cursing himself. He was supposed to be this confident, cocky saccente. He was a donnaiolo. He was not the type of guy to break down in tears in an alleyway over his feelings for Spot. 

“Oi, Racer. It’s okay,” Spot murmured, stepping up on his tip toes to brush his lips against Race’s. His breath caught in his throat. They had kissed before. Of course, they had. There wasn’t a part of his body that Spot hadn’t had his lips on at some point, but when Spot kissed him then something erupted in his chest. Happiness. That’s what it must have been. No longer were his thoughts of Spot consumed by lust, similar to the tens of other men and women he had slept with. No, now all Race could think was how much he loved Sean Conlon. 

Spot took his hesitation as bad sign and began to pull away. He glanced away in attempts to gather his thoughts before apologizing but was caught off guard by Race capturing his lips. This kiss was deeper than the last one, his tongue running along Spot’s bottom lip. Somehow, the blond had managed to put all of his feelings, everything he couldn’t put into words, into that kiss. Spot eagerly opened his mouth, allowing Race’s tongue to reexplore, this time with a new ferocity. There was no more holding back, no more fear of being used solely for pleasure. The two loved each other and if the world wasn’t allowed to know that just yet, that was fine, because at least they had one another to revel in. 

_I think that we, we‘re meant to be_  
_Caught up in the moment, got no sense of time_

“Someone go find Racer, he’s gotta be done with that Corona by now and I’s is itching to finally win a game,” Specs whined. Everyone laughed, knowing full well that there was no way anyone was beating Racetrack Higgins in a game of poker. He didn’t play fair, and even when he did, he was a force to be reckoned with.

With a groan, Jack pushed away from the table. “I’ll go and get ‘em. Since none of y’all- hey, stop laughin’ at me! I’s can still talk like a cowboy if I damn well please.” His complaint only drew more laughter from the group. “I’s neva get any respect ‘round here.” Jack grumbled, making his way out of the lounge and into the crowded bar. 

All eyes were on him, even if the conversations never stopped. Jacobi’s had aged just as the Newsies had, only they hadn’t gained in social class like those who now went to the bar had. Many checked their watches and pockets after Jack had passed by, making sure they still had their valuables safely tucked away. He let out a nervous breath, shaky hand grabbing onto the outside door and flinging it open. It was dark, but he could just barely make out the two figures pressed so close to one another that those who weren’t looking hard enough might have mistaken it as a single individual. “Racer, the fella’s want you inside. They’ve been waitin’ ‘bout an hour for you’s to finish yer cigar,” Jack spoke with a blush across his face, the way they were kissing reminded him of how Davey and he were. 

Race and Spot jumped away from one another, panting heavily from their swollen lips. “Che cazzo, Jackie,” Race hissed, bending over to catch his breath, “You’s gave me a heart attack.” Jack let out a loud laugh, “You’s lucky it was just me. If Elmer were the one who found you’s we’d have ta give him Davey’s nickname.” They all stared at one another for a beat before breaking out in a fit of giggles. 

Race calmed down, heading inside to go win some money, but Spot stayed outside with Jack. They stood in silence for a while, both of them looking up at the sky. “I bet in Santa Fe you’d be able to see ta star’s,” Spot joked, earning a wheeze of laughter from Jack. “Yeah, I’s suppose you’s could.” An unspoken memory passed between them, before Jack finally sighed and opened up the door, “C’mon, let’s go have one more drink.” 

_Let‘s get away, just for today_  
_Caught up in the moment, let us drink tonight_

When Jack and Spot had returned, Race was already winning, and Specs was entirely regretting his decision. Elmer was drunkenly singing some nursey rhyme the Nuns had taught him some six years ago. Albert had pulled himself out of his mood, even going as far to joke around with Race rather than snap at him. Jack plopped in the seat next to Davey, taking his hand under the table and squeezing it softly. 

At home, Les was studying for his vocabulary test. He was three weeks away from graduating high school. The Newsie’s were saving up to send him to University like Davey had. Mush and Blink cuddled together, placing kissing along one another’s necks, mumbling sweet nothings until sleep finally over took them. Crutchie watched his friends with a small smile at all of them. They were dealt with a shitty hand, but they had made the most of it. They found a way to seize each and every day. 

Spot sat down next to Race, leaning over to look at his cards. “You’s got a good hand, sure you’s is playing fair?” He whispered, earning a wink from the blond. “We’s both know there’s no fun in playin’ fair.” Race mumbled, watching as Specs tried to call his bluff. He set down his cards, a royal flush, then collected his winnings. “Damn that was hot, Higgins,” Spot nudged him with his shoulder. Race looked over at him, corners of his mouth quirking up into a shit-eating grin. “I’s love ya, Conlon,” He whispered, waiting for Specs to deal.

“I’s love ya too.” And that’s all that mattered.

_I‘ve got liquor in my system, cigars on my breath_  
_I‘ve got liquor in my system, cigars on my breath_  
_I‘ve got liquor in my system, cigars on my breath_  
_I‘ve got liquor in my system, cigars on my breath_

**Author's Note:**

> Here are some translations (if any of them are incorrect please let me know! Google translate is not trustworthy)
> 
> _Che cazzo è?_   What the fuck is that?  
>  _porca vacca_   Damn!  
>  _Sogni d'oro_   Sweet Dreams  
>  _Chiudere il becco_   Shut up  
>  _saccente_   Know it all  
>  _donnaiolo_   Flirt  
>  _Che cazzo_   What the fuck


End file.
